ThankLESS Giving, 2022

Issue 6, Volume 113

By Eshaal Ubaid 

Hey everyone! 2022 has been such a GREAT year! I really, truly enjoyed every part of it, from the uh…. movies? And the… uhhhh… hmmm… OH! The 2/2/22 date earlier this year? Haha.

Yeah, okay, this is not a comedy bit. I am genuinely blanking right now. There is nothing to be thankful for on this Earth. Our crumbling democracy? Picking up the pieces of our fragmented social culture after the pandemic? Marvel’s dollar store excuse for a new superhero phase? HOW DOES EVERY MOVIE FEEL LIKE FANFICTION? AND THEY DO SHOWS NOW? THE HULK HAS A COUSIN?!

Ahem. With turkey season in full swing, it feels like a task and a half to shut up and be grateful, especially since I am a person with a multitude of opinions. A poet, if you will. One of the greatest. Therefore, I think that it is crucial to express how you truly feel. This is absolutely not a fragile justification for me to complain about things I’d otherwise feel petty for bringing up! Dear audience, this is for YOU! Let me do the honors of starting you off with things you should definitely not be grateful for this year.

The Godforsaken Weather

The sky is foolish right now. The climate is positively obtuse. The temperature has gone through so many different numbers this week alone that the SAT decided to use them as an example of scattered data on its next godforsaken test (more on that soon). November, you are not girlbossing with the #autumn aesthetic anymore. You are playing with my EMOTIONS. A couple bajillion truckloads of greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere are no reason to be 76 degrees one day and 30 degrees the next. My wardrobe is sobbing. What is there to wear that would be appropriate for the weather? There is a choice between a light sweater, a thick hoodie, a jacket, a ski suit, my Pikachu onesie, and clinging onto a friend like they are a personal space heater; yet somehow, my calculation is always wrong.

Stuyvesant classrooms, you are NOT helping. The walk from physics to English is akin to that of a hike from Antarctica to the Amazon rainforest.

The Underclassman Couples Goin’ at It in Broad Daylight

CHILDREN. YOU ARE CHILDREN. There is nothing romantic about the dim lighting of the locker hallways. You will not find true love in the same building where somewhere, somehow, someone is sobbing over their last AP Calculus test. At the very least, move it to the Hudson like the rest of civilized society. Please. I AM JUST TRYING TO GET TO THE GOOD WATER FOUNTAIN ON THE SIXTH FLOOR. Do your acids-bases homework before trying to make chemistry in the hallways.

The Fake Sewn-In Pockets in Women’s Jeans

No further comment.

Endless Notifications From the Spec Humor Chat

Now, do not get me terribly mistaken: Spec Humor is the best and should be worshipped. But the way these children abuse the group chat has taken my on-life-support Android phone’s CPU. And yet, I cannot unmute. That is where I get the juicy reminders to do this article and finish first drafts before midnight (current timestamp: 11:24 p.m.). Thus, I leave it unmuted for lord Erica Chen.
And do not believe for a second that these conversations are not bangers. For a periodic lurker like me, each conversation is like a movie with a deep-seated conflict (staging a revolution against the editors) and heroic ending (editors say “lol” and move on). However, the endless Messenger ping! ricocheting off of my brain is worse than the plague of Nyan Cat back in the thousands. Y’all can continue to be funny, but maybe in fewer text messages. I am in purgatory.

The Economy

Inflation is soaring and the Federal Reserve is quite awfully raising interest rates at a self-destructive rate. We will plunge into a recession with these compound effects. Halal carts have the same price tags as five-star Michelin restaurants. The vending machines are scams. Gong Cha boba tea is now $8 for a large and my rewards program is proving defenseless. We are screwed, people.

There is always more to complain about, but alas, I must end off with a final wailing: There is a large particle stuck in my shift key and Sticky Keys activates every 30 seconds or so. I am thankless for the Sticky Keys sound. I hope it crashes and burns.


Now, I am #notlikeothergirls and actually do not have much of a problem with the woes of how standardized this thing is or whatever. No, no. I solely wish to spare the battery life of my TI-84, because this is the only test that makes me question whether 9 + 9 + 10 really is 21 (trust me, it is, and do not search through any dead memes whatsoever), and my poor little legs as they fall asleep. I stood up after those four hours with legs that had aged years. One was numb. The other was disoriented. My head was pounding after hearing the kid behind me sniffle all throughout the Reading Comprehension section. Suddenly, reading a five-word sentence became a laborious task requiring the full command of my singular brain cell. Overall, we were not girlbossing in this establishment.


But, hey, these are just first-world problems. You know who I REALLY hate the most? People who complain all the time. Yeesh.